Rhiannon (14 page)

Rhiannon was completely taken aback. ‘B-but who will replace you?'

‘Again, thanks to Walter, it's all worked out perfectly. With me taking over from Alice Lloyd in New York, Walter thought it worth getting in touch with her agent and ... well, to cut a long story ... Walter has managed to get her signed up to do a show a night with top billing here at the Empire.'

‘And Adam agreed?'

‘Agreed? He jumped at the chance at having Alice Lloyd fresh from her American success, appear in his show. What a draw she'll be, even if it is for one show a night,' Walter enthused. Then, noticing the frown on Florrie's brow he added, ‘The only act good enough to replace you, my dear.'

‘Quite.' Florrie smiled. ‘Adam has already expressed how sad he'll be to lose me.'

‘I still don't understand. So who will top the bill for the matinée shows?' Rhiannon asked.

‘Adam has given it to Sally Webber.'

The disappointment on Rhiannon's face was obvious. If Sally hadn't made such a quick recovery, it might have been herself.

‘Don't look so glum,' Walter said. ‘What this means is that when Sally Webber is topping the bill there'll be a whole six-minute spot going begging for... ?'

‘Me!' Rhiannon screamed.

‘Exactly,' her Aunt Florrie enthused. ‘The good news is that Adam is all for it and has extended the second show so that you can appear in that too. He was very pleased with your aunt's choice of song. And instead of attending an audition, he wants you to begin rehearsals on Monday.'

Pleased as Rhiannon was with this news, it was all happening too fast – and it all seemed a bit too contrived. She noticed a look pass between Walter and her aunt and knew she was right.

‘What is it? There's something else, isn't there?'

‘Well yes, there is. The thing is my dear, on the day of our departure we all need to book out of the hotel.'

‘You mean – me too? Where will I go?'

‘We've already arranged for you to move into theatrical digs. A respectable boarding house just around the corner from the Empire, owned by Mrs Gordon, the theatre's housekeeper, and Mavis, her spinster sister. It already accommodates many of the cast, so you'll not be on your own.'

Rhiannon noticed how her aunt avoided eye contact.

‘But how am I to manage? How much will it cost?'

‘Now don't you go fretting yourself, young 'un. Your aunt has already paid three months in advance and tomorrow she has arranged a visit to her bank to secure an account in your name with a modest allowance to get you started.'

Rhiannon looked to her aunt. ‘Thank you, Aunt Florrie, that's very generous of you.'

‘It's just a little to help you get started. Walter also took it upon himself to speak to Adam on your behalf. He managed to secure you a fifteen guineas a week wage at the theatre. I'm all for you standing on your own feet. I suggest the need to be frugal, at least until you establish your career in the theatre.'

Rhiannon was speechless. Between them they had thought of everything. But, acceptable as the arrangement was to her, she couldn't help feeling that their efforts on her behalf were partly made to ease their own consciences.

For a while no one spoke.

Walter was quick to break the awkward silence. ‘Come on, you gals!
We all know what a wrench this will be, but look on it as a new start for us all. I think it's time for us to raise our glasses and toast. To the future!'

Rhiannon went through the motions of raising her glass to her lips, all the while fighting back the tears. In less than a week they'd be gone and, no matter what her Aunt Florrie said, she would be on her own.

 

Back in her room Rhiannon, more determined than ever to seek out Mair, reached for her hat and jacket. Once fully dressed she left the room heading for Westgate Street and the King's Head public house. Although Gus had advised her not to venture out alone, what harm could possibly come to her in broad daylight?

‘Good morning, miss,' the doorman said, as Rhiannon left the Angel Hotel.

‘Good morning,' Rhiannon answered. ‘I wonder would you mind pointing me in the direction of Westgate Street?'

‘Of course, miss. He stepped down onto the payment. Then raising his arm pointed down the street. ‘Just you head to your left. That's the beginning of Westgate Street. Mind you it's a long street. Where exactly do you want to go?'

Rhiannon hesitated. ‘Oh, nowhere really. I just felt like a stroll,' she lied, not wanting to divulge her true destination.

‘Well, you certainly picked a nice day for it.' He smiled, and doffed his top hat.

Rhiannon returned his smile before hastily heading in the direction of Westgate Street.

The doorman had been right. It was a beautiful day, with a clear blue sky and only a few fluffy white clouds. A hint that summer was well on its way.

It being Sunday and the shops all closed, Castle Street was eerily quiet. There were no trams, street hawkers or motor cars. A lone cyclist, a single horse-drawn carriage and a couple of pedestrians were the only signs of life in the normally bustling city street. Following the doorman's instructions, Rhiannon took the first turning into Westgate Street.

Halfway down the street a couple of young lads, both dressed in cloth caps and grey serge suits, stood on the pavement. Rhiannon didn't want any trouble from them, so she paused for moment and pretended to adjust the buttons on her shoe. Looking up she spotted the ‘King's Head' sign hanging above their heads. She stood up and, taking a deep breath, ventured forward.

‘All right love, out for a bit of a stroll, then?' the taller of the two lads asked.

Rhiannon didn't answer. Instead, she gingerly made her way towards the pub entrance.

The other lad stepped in front of her, blocking her path. ‘Where are you off to then? Fancy a bit of company, do you?'

‘Excuse me. I need to enter the public house.'

‘Oh, you do, do you?' The young man raised his nose in the air as if mimicking her.

‘Come on, Albert. Don't you know a young lady when you see one?'

‘A young lady in need of a stiff drink, I'd say. Now if it's something stiff you're after... .' Albert sniggered.

Rhiannon felt her colour rise. ‘If you don't let me pass, I shall call for help.' She took a deep breath, prepared to carry out her threat.

‘All right, keep your hair on.' He stood aside, ‘But it'll do you no good. It's Sunday. The pub's
officially
closed.'

‘Well, if it's closed, where's all that noise coming from?' Rhiannon snapped.

‘I said
officially
closed. Every Sunday the landlord holds a private party – just for the regulars. There's no law against holding a private party, and it keeps everyone happy. No complaints from Bible-punchers or the local constabulary.'

‘Mind you, private party or not, we still have to pay for our ale,' the other lad piped in.

‘We were just about to knock on the door. If you want you can come in with us,' Albert offered.

Rhiannon shook her head. ‘I don't think... .'

‘Look, I'm sorry about earlier. It's not often that me and Tommy get to see the likes of you down at the King's Head. We didn't mean anything by it, honest.'

The door of the pub opened. Albert and Tommy quickly entered. ‘Well are you coming in, or what?' Albert urged.

Against her better judgement she followed them in. Once inside the door they entered a dark dingy taproom, dimly lit by pale gas lights, reeking of stale beer and cigarettes, sparsely furnished with a few well-worn tables and chairs. The bar was full of men. Through a hatch she spied another room behind. A room filled with heavily made-up women, wearing far too much lipstick and rouge, knocking back tankards of ale.

Rhiannon felt the urge to turn and run but, for some reason her legs wouldn't move.

‘What's your pleasure?' the buxom barmaid asked.

‘Two glasses of your best ale please, Dolly,' Albert answered.

While the barmaid expertly served the two foaming ales, her eyes stayed firmly fixed on Rhiannon. ‘And what'll she be having, then?'

There was a moment's awkward silence, then Rhiannon, realizing that Dolly was waiting for her, answered. ‘Oh, thank you, but I don't want a drink.'

The barmaid stood with her hands on her hips, her heavy bust straining the ribbons of her grubby bodice. ‘Well, pray tell me what the hell you're doing here if you don't want a drink?' she demanded.

Rhiannon imagined that all eyes were on her. ‘I'm looking for someone?'

‘What, your old fella up and left you?' The barmaid sniggered.

‘I-I'm looking for Nellie Parsons ... I was told that she often frequented this establishment.'

Around the room she heard muffled laughter.

‘Nellie!' the barmaid shouted through the hatch. ‘There's a snooty cow out here asking for you. I'm sending her through.'

The thought of entering a room full of larger-than-life women terrified Rhiannon – akin to sending a lamb to slaughter. She knew she was out of her depth but felt she had come too far to stop now.

‘Nellie's in the snug out back, and enter at your peril, I say... . Well, go on then, what you waiting for?' the barmaid taunted her.

Rhiannon began to weave her way slowly pass the men in the tap room. She wished she hadn't dressed so smartly. She looked and felt so out of place.

The snug door flew open and there, surrounded by rough-looking women, stood Nellie. She looked different. Although quite tidily dressed, her heavy make-up made her look harder and coarser.

‘Well, if it isn't daddy's little girl. What the hell do you want?' Nellie snapped.

Rhiannon would have wished for a better reception. ‘I'd like to see Mair,' she replied.

‘Oh, you would, would you?' Nellie spat.

‘Yes – yes, I would.' Rhiannon failed to mask the tremble in her voice.

Nellie moved closer, Rhiannon could smell her beery-breath. ‘Well she don't want to see you, so why don't you just bugger off?'

Then from behind she felt a man's hand move around her waist. ‘What say you and me go out back for a bit of fun then?' he said as he
began kissing the nape of her neck.

Rhiannon pulled away. As she did so, Nellie grabbed her shoulders. ‘What a good idea, Harry. Little miss perfect here could do with being pulled down a peg or two. Come on girls, let's take her out back and watch Harry and anyone else have their fun with her.'

As the women began to jostle her towards the back door, Rhiannon became filled with dread. ‘You can't do this, it isn't right. Let me go,' she insisted.

Harry and Nellie just laughed.

‘You heard the girl, let her go!' a man commanded.

Rhiannon instantly recognized Gus's strong voice. She almost collapsed with relief.

‘And what's it got to do with you? We're not greedy. You can have a piece of the action too, if you like,' Harry scoffed.

‘If you don't let her go, this instant, the only action you're likely to see is my fist on your chin.'

‘That's brave talk, mister. Especially, when there be only one of you and at least six of us.'

‘He's not on his own, Harry. Me and Tommy are on his side,' the lad called Albert piped in. ‘So why don't you leave the young lady alone?'

While the men considered their options, Rhiannon attempted to struggle free, but Nellie and the women were having none of it.

‘Break it up, lads. If you don't leave off with this bloody nonsense, I'll be forced to stop Dolly serving and throw you all out,' a larger than life bearded man bellowed.

‘I'm sure there's no need for that, landlord,' the man next to Harry called. Then, turning to Harry, he urged, ‘Come on, mate. You've had your fun, now let them be.'

A nod from Harry was all it took for the women to release their grip on Rhiannon. She instantly ran towards Gus. He caught an arm around her. At last she felt safe. Taking her hand Gus led her out of the pub. As they passed Albert and Tommy, Rhiannon mouthed ‘Thank you.'

‘You're welcome, miss,' they said, and, as a show of respect, both removed their caps.

Once outside the pub Gus pulled her into a doorway.

‘Whatever possessed you to do such a stupid thing? Didn't I tell you not to venture down here on your own?'

‘I'm sorry, Gus. I just thought—'

‘I dread to think what might have happened if I hadn't found you.'

‘I'm so glad you did. How did you know I was here?'

‘I called at the hotel. I thought, with it being such a nice day, I'd call and ask your aunt's permission to take you for lunch. When the doorman told me you'd left, heading for Westgate Street, I guessed you'd gone to look for your stepmother. The King's Head was the obvious choice.

‘Nellie
was
there,' Rhiannon meekly offered.

‘So I gathered. And what a right charmer she turned out to be.'

‘She told me that Mair didn't want to see me.'

‘And do you believe her?'

‘I'm not sure. If it were true, I wouldn't blame Mair. She probably thinks I've deserted her.' Rhiannon dropped her head.

Gus put his arms around her and pulled her to him. She felt his lips brush her forehead. She had never been this close to a man before. Part of her felt she should pull away. After all, it was broad daylight and she could almost hear her Aunt Florrie's disapproval. But it felt so good that, for a while, time stood still.

Then, taking her chin in his gloved hand Gus slowly raised her head and kissed her gently on the lips. She felt an awakening of strange new feelings and her whole being longed for more, when she responded his kiss deepened. She was totally entranced.

From the pavement someone coughed. Gus released her. And her magic moment was no more.

In front of them stood the two lads from the pub. ‘I thought this might be of help to you, miss,' Albert said, holding out a piece of paper. ‘It's Harry and Nellie's address.'

‘Thank you,' Rhiannon said, as she reached out to take it, but Gus's hand beat her to it. For a few moments he studied the piece of paper in silence.

The suspense was too much for Rhiannon. ‘Gus, tell me. Do they live very far away?'

‘No. Going by this address, they live a five-minute walk away.'

‘You mean Mair may be that close? Come on then, what are we waiting for?' Rhiannon urged.

‘If I was you, I'd leave it for today,' Albert interjected. ‘Harry, Nellie and her cronies will all be heading for home soon. I don't think ... after what happened in the pub... .'

‘Thanks. That's probably good advice. I think there's been more than enough excitement for one day,' Gus said.

‘All right then, we'll be off. Good luck,' the lads called as they turned and headed down Westgate Street.

Rhiannon's disappointment was obvious. ‘A case of so near and yet so far, eh?' she said.

‘Come on, Rhi. You know it makes sense.' Gus took her hand in his. ‘I suggest we head back to the Angel Hotel in time for a late lunch. If your aunt or Walter asks, you went for a walk to Sophia Gardens and we met by accident.'

 

It was almost 3.30 in the afternoon when Harry and Nellie returned from the pub.

Mair, having had a week of so-called freedom, allowed to visit the Theatre Bar and the King's Head pub, to be paraded in front of lecherous men, as if she were a prize cow at a farmers' market, was now strictly confined to her digs: locked in. ‘Now that everyone has had a chance to see her, all we have to do is sit back and wait for the highest bidder,' she'd heard Harry boast to Nellie. Mair had strict instructions to prepare a meal for their return. With limited cooking facilities, a few pots and pans and an open coal fire, a stew was by far the easiest option.

Mair heard the key turn in the lock and her stomach churned, wondering whether this would be the night when they handed her to the highest bidder.

‘I still can't fathom out how that brazen bitch knew where to find you. Unless you've been speaking out of turn,' Harry spat, as he roughly grabbed Nellie's arm.

‘Please Harry, you're hurting me. I swear it wasn't my fault. I was as surprised as you to see Dai's daughter in the pub today,' Nellie pleaded.

‘Well, she'd better watch her step. I'm not going to let anyone spoil my plan,' Harry warned.

‘Rhiannon – you've actually seen Rhiannon?' Mair asked, fighting to control her excitement. ‘Is she coming here to see me?'

‘No, she bloody well isn't,' Harry snapped.

‘But she did come looking for
me
, didn't she? Please Mam – Nellie, I really want to see her.'

Releasing Nellie's arm, Harry's hand whipped across Mair's buttocks.

‘Ouch!' Mair cried.

‘Think yourself lucky. If I didn't need you looking your innocent best, you'd have felt my hand across that pretty face of yours. Now, where's my food?'